Not Just for Show
by MistyMountainHop
Summary: After ignoring Kitty at the Kenosha auto show, Red intends to prove his devotion to her. He enlists Hyde's help, but Hyde's relationship with Jackie causes Red trouble he didn't anticipate.
1. Placekicker

**Disclaimer:** _That '70s Show_ copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

 **Author's Note:** I don't consider much of Red's behavior in "Oh, Baby (We Got a Good Thing Goin')" (7x18) in-character. I've changed a vital detail in that episode to bring Red back to his true characterization.

 **Dedication:** For Prissy (nannygirl), the queen of Red/Kitty fanfic and a wonderful friend.

CHAPTER ONE  
 **PLACEKICKER**

Red dropped the latest copy of _Auto Magazine_ onto the side table. He whispered, "Damn it!" at the den walls and pushed himself from his armchair. Relaxing had been his plan after the auto show, but his body refused to cooperate. A day of admiring cars he couldn't afford took a lot out of man. So did being reprimanded by his wife. He'd messed up, and it was cramping his stomach like a bad batch of tuna.

Which is why he never ate seafood. One meal of gills in Okinawa had left him unable to steer the gunboat for two consecutive days. He'd been too busy puking over the side of it, but he felt as badly tonight as he had on that gunboat. Just without the vomit.

Kitty had really yelled at him today, firing curses at him in the Toyota. The fury in her voice could've blown out the tires. It had definitely flattened his pride. He considered sneaking to the living room, escaping up the stairs, and slipping into bed. Confronting her anger again was a situation he wanted to avoid, but the navy had taught him how to survive in hostile conditions. He'd fought in two wars and recovered from a heart attack. Apologizing to his wife was an endurable task

Fifteen steps brought him to her. She was pouring a cup of tea in the kitchen, but more than anger wrinkled her forehead. Worry was nested in her skin like shrapnel.

Sweat formed on his palms. The last time she seemed this upset, his ticker was giving out on him.

"Listen, Kitty," he began, but she kept her gaze on the counter and added sugar to her tea. Her blouse and pants from the day were rumpled like her forehead. But the fact she'd remained in them confirmed his suspicions: she was afraid.

He cleared his tightening throat. Wearing his pajamas and robe felt unsuitable for what he had to do. He'd changed into them a half-hour ago, but at least the robe was useful. He wiped his damp hands on it. "I'm sorry about today," he said. "It's just that the show had a 1957 Mercedes 300SL Gullwing. I couldn't resist—"

"Pawing at it like it was Lynn Taylor?" she said, stirring her tea.

His stomach intensified its attack, clenching harder. He'd entered the kitchen from the short hallway, and it offered two paths to go AWOL, the basement door and the fifteen steps that led back to his sanctuary. "I should've stayed in the den."

"No, no, no." She touched his arm and finally looked at him. "I shouldn't have gone to the car show. I know how you get around a shiny chassis, but I was hoping you'd include me somehow." She stirred her tea some more, splashing liquid out of the cup. "Instead, you ignored me like an old shoe."

She laughed quietly, the kind of laughter that shot armor-piercing shells. "Steven treated Jackie like you did that Gullwing. He brought her funnel cake with extra powdered sugar, asked her opinion on accessories for his car—"

"I didn't bring the Mercedes funnel cake."

"You know what I'm saying, Red. You gave me plenty of time to watch Jackie and Steven be all romantic with each other. It was sickening." She went back to stirring her tea. It had been stirred plenty, but more liquid splashed out of the cup. "We're the ones who are supposed to make them sick. It's our God-given right as parents!"

"Oh, you can't compare our mature relationship to what those kids have," he said, and his stomach and throat called off their assault. She wasn't afraid of losing him. She was jealous. He smiled, hoping to reassure her. "We're past all those highs and lows. We're like a sailboat in a dead calm."

" _Dead?_ When was the last time we went for a motorcycle ride? Or dancing? Is your passion for me dead, too?"

"Of course not! Look, Kitty..." he grasped her arms gently and drew her closer, "the important thing is every morning, I get to wake up next to my favorite girl in the whole world."

The wrinkles in her forehead smoothed out. "Reginald Albert Forman..."

Her arms slid around his shoulders, but as she kissed him, a grenade detonated in his skull. Words were nice. So was the warmth and movement of her lips, but he had to prove his devotion. It was far stronger to her than to any shiny chassis. Sailing beyond the choppy seas of young love didn't mean she no longer excited him, but he'd done a piss-poor job showing her lately.

* * *

A few nights later, Red offered to do the dishes after dinner. He was already gathering them from the kitchen table. Phase one of his strategy was in motion.

Kitty placed a hand over her heart. "Well, isn't that sweet?"

"Whipped," Eric whispered to Steven across the table.

Steven laughed, but Red pointed at both of them. "Just for that, you two are gonna help." He passed his pile of plates to Eric. "Kitty, why don't you go upstairs and have a nice bubble bath? We'll take care of things here. I promise."

"I can't argue with that suggestion." She stood from the table, cupped his cheeks, and pecked his lips. "If you finish fast enough, you can join me."

She left the kitchen, and Eric groaned. "Do you have to do that right in front of me?" He glanced at his at his arm. Tomato sauce from the plates had fallen onto it. "And the indecency continues. I'm the one who needs a bath."

"Quit whining, Forman," Steven said, "and haul ass to the sink." He grabbed two glasses off the table. "Red, man, what's goin' on? You've been kissing Mrs. Forman's butt ever since we got back from the car show."

Red picked up the other two glasses. "Sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Speaking of which, you and the loud one are going to Orchard Hollow with me and Kitty next Saturday."

"We are, huh?" Steven carried his glasses to the sink, where Eric was soaping up the dishes. "What's in it for me?"

"Funny question." Red joined him and Eric at the sink. Steven had no leverage. He wasn't aware of it yet, but Red would rectify that. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Where the hell are you living?"

"Where're you goin' with this, Red?"

Red clinked his two glasses together. "To Orchard Hollow with the nineteen-year-old who continues to eat my food and live under my roof. You could've moved to Milwaukee to live with your biological father, but you chose to stay here. Now, I can either tell Eric why you did that..." he placed the glasses on the sink counter, "or you can accept you're a part of this family. And after years of being part of this family, you know what that means."

"I'm goin' to Orchard Hollow on Saturday."

Red inhaled a deep, satisfying breath. "That's right."

"Blackmailing me with privileged information." Steven put his glasses beside Red's and clapped Red on the back. "Proud of you, man."

"Hey!" Eric shouted. He was scrubbing a smear of tomato sauce off a plate. "I'm your actual son. Why don't you invite me and Donna on your 'couples retreat'?"

"Do you really want to spend a day picking apples?" Red said.

"Not really."

"See? And I don't want to spend a day with you, so you not going works for both of us."

Eric's shoulders slumped, and he put the last of dishes in the drying rack. "Since you two like being around each other so much..." he gestured to the silverware in the sink and the glasses lined up on the counter, "you can finish this without me."

He plodded to the short hallway and disappeared through the basement door. The boy had inherited his mother's sensitivity, but Red wasn't married to him. If Eric decided to mope, that was Donna's problem.

"You gonna kiss Forman's ass now that you made him jealous?" Steven said and grabbed the dish scrubber. "Maybe get him a new rubber ducky for his bath?"

"No, but my foot'll do more than kiss your ass if you stick with that line of thought."

Steven seemed to get the message. He washed a fork in silence, but Red needed more than that. Phase two of his strategy was forming up, and one couldn't be too prepared.

"Say, how do you come up with stuff like, 'Because she's my chick'?" The question should've been easy to understand, but Steven grimaced, as if Red had asked why the Packers were having a lousy season. "The reason you stuck with your girlfriend at the car show," Red said. "'Because she's my chick.' Kitty told me."

"That's what she is," Steven said. "My chick. She's into cars and knows what I like. Bein' at the auto show with her was cool."

"'That's what she is,'" Red repeated. "'That's … what … she … is.' Okay." Steven's meaning was clear, and now Red knew just what to do on Saturday.

* * *

Red's hands covered Kitty's eyes as he led her to the driveway. A chill hung in the late-October air, but Red's promise of a _Saturday Surprise_ warmed her from the inside-out. Would they finally take the motorcycle out for another ride? His doctor had okayed it months ago. Or maybe Red had reserved a room at the Wisconsin Dells for a romantic weekend.

"All right, Kitty..." He removed his hands from her eyes, and the Toyota—as well as Steven and Jackie—replaced the darkness. "We're going to Orchard Hollow!"

Her pulse sped up, heating her further. "Oh! Oh, we haven't been apple-picking since the kids were kids!" She gestured to Steven and Jackie. "They're just seeing us off, right?"

"No, they're coming with us. Once Steven heard about my plans, he begged me to let him and Jackie go, too." Red clenched his fists and shook them in front of his chest. " _Begged me,_ Kitty. What was I supposed to?"

Jackie tugged on Steven's coat sleeve and whispered something in his ear. He tapped his temple in response and jutted his chin toward Red. She nodded as if she understood. They must've had some kind of secret language, but Kitty couldn't decipher it.

"Best thing about this place," Red said once they were in the Toyota and on the road, "it's only fifteen minutes away." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "It used to be a dairy farm. Seventy-five acres of farmland."

"Wow, you've really done your research," Jackie said from the back seat. "Did you drive up there earlier to make sure it wasn't run-down?" She gasped. "Did you used to work there? You have all those plaid shirts. Those are farming shirts—"

"Jackie," Steven said next to her, "your tongue's actin' up."

"It's a perfectly valid question," she said. "Though he did join the navy when he was, what, eighteen? When would he have had time to milk cows?"

Red drove onto I-41, but his neck and cheeks were flushing. Kitty had to redirect the conversation. Otherwise, he might stop the car short in an attempt to fling Jackie through he windshield.

"Surely you kids have gone apple-picking before," Kitty said but received no answer. "Kids? I asked you a—"

Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. Steven and Jackie's reflections were groping each other in it. Their faces had become a joint entity with their kissing, and Kitty laughed through clenched teeth.

"I can swerve the car," Red said. "That'd make them stop."

She exhaled through her nose. Red had spotted Steven and Jackie's slobbery make-out, too, but she said, "No. It's only ten more minutes now, right? How much kissing can they do?"

* * *

"Ask a stupid question," Kitty muttered. For the last nine minutes, she'd mostly stared out the passenger-side window but occasionally checked the rearview mirror. Steven and Jackie must have grown gills. Their mouths never left each other long enough to take in air.

She considered tossing the car's Weeper Keeper at them, but Red drove into Orchard Hollow's parking lot with jerky stop-start movements. When that didn't work, he honked the horn a few times, blasting Steven and Jackie apart from each other.

Everyone exited the car. Neither Steven nor Jackie complained about Red's driving, a wise decision. Red might abandon them here, and Kitty wouldn't argue that hard against it.

Beyond the parking lot, apple trees rose in the distance. Kitty's heart beat loudly in her ears. The prospect of a romantic day began to erase her memory of the drive here, and a familiar warmth slid beneath her palm. Red had offered her his arm. She grasped it with both hands, and he led the way toward the orchard's county store.

"You should've let me swerve the car," he whispered to her.

"If they start up again on the way home," she whispered back, "you have my full permission."

* * *

The county store smelled like apple pie, and paintings of the orchard adorned its wood-paneled walls. Jugs of apple cider filled the shelves, along with apple-themed oven mitts, dishware, and recipe books. Kitty's stomach swirled with the desire to buy out the store, but she'd have to do her shopping after picking apples. She and Red had reached the cash register, where a young, rosy-cheeked woman greeted them.

"Hi! Welcome to Orchard Hollow," the woman said. "How can I help you today?"

On the register counter, in a picture frame, was a hand-written list of what Orchard Hollow had to offer and the corresponding fees. Red pointed to the first item on the list and said, "Four full park admissions, including the tour."

"Oh, Red, you're really splurging?" Kitty said, and Steven and Jackie grumbled behind them.

Red cupped Kitty's chin. "Anything for my favorite girl."

He paid the cashier, who placed four apple-picking baskets on the counter. Kitty grabbed two of the baskets, passed them to Steven and Jackie, and snort-giggled. "I'm his favorite girl!"

"I can't believe we have to go on a tour," Jackie said. "It's Saturday, Mrs. Forman. We're not supposed to learn on Saturdays."

"Yeah." Steven hiked his thumbs at himself and Jackie. "How's about we skip the tour and meet you at the apple trees?"

"Already paid," Red said. "So you two are gonna see how cider is made, and you're going to enjoy it."

"Fine, we'll go." Jackie struck the apple-picking basket against her hip. "But I'm not going to enjoy it unless _cider_ is a euphemism for _diamonds_."

Red's eyebrows rose, and his lips twitched up but didn't quite smile. "It's not."

Kitty rubbed his back. He was great at getting the kids to participate in group activities against their will.

* * *

Their tour guide was a wiry, gray-haired man named Fred, whose passion for apples was probably unmatched in the Midwest. He spoke about them as if they were jewels, but his enthusiasm didn't seem to impress Jackie. She kept whispering insults to Steven, ones Kitty tried not to hear. But his overalls were bright green, emblazoned with Orchard Hollow's name and logo, and much too big for him.

"He's more cartoon than man," Jackie said quietly, and Kitty agreed. Her fingers itched to sew his outfit to a proper size.

"Once the apples are cleaned," Fred said inside the cider mill, "they're brought by this conveyor belt to the grinder."

He brought them past the conveyor to a growling, vibrating machine. A man stood beside it, holding a large hose, and apple pulp poured out of it onto a tarp-covered tray.

"After the tour is done," Kitty whispered to Red, "are you going to abandon me for all this noisy equipment?"

"Of course not. You're my wife."

"That didn't stop you at the car show."

Red peered up at the cider mill's ceiling, and his chest rose with a heavy breath. "Kitty, I'm trying to make things up to you here. If you ever go to another auto show with me, I promise to be as much of a know-it-all as this guy," he nodded at Fred, "drag you around the convention center, and explain to you the glories of a '63 Corvette Stingray, okay?"

"That's all I want." She hugged his waist but peeked back at Steven and Jackie. "And for you to take five minutes out from ogling cars to feed me—the woman who bore you two children—funnel cake."

"Feed you funnel cake," he said as if speaking to himself. "Got it."

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "Good."

* * *

Kitty and Red chose an apple tree with branches low enough for Kitty to reach. The Braeburn apples snapped off the tree with little effort. Visions of baking danced through her mind: apple pies with cinnamon-infused crust, her aunt Alice's apple crumble, that French apple tart recipe from _Good Housekeeping,_ but they became apple sauce with Jackie's shriek.

A few trees east, Steven had raised Jackie to a high branch. His arms were coiled around her hips, but she hit his shoulder repeatedly and shouted, "Let me down, let me down!"

He did as she ordered, and she dumped over her basket of apples. She dumped over his, too, and he shouted, "What the hell?"

"Worms, Steven! The last apple I picked had a worm poking out of it!"

"This is crap." He crouched by the apples scattered on the ground and started to put them back in his basket.

"Uh-oh," Kitty half-sang to Red. "Sounds like there's trouble in Young Love Land."

Red bit into the apple he'd just picked, and he chuckled mid-chew as Jackie continued to yell.

"Stop! They're all gonna be wormy now!"

"Then why'd you dump them?" Steven said.

"To check if they have worms. I didn't think that far ahead, okay?"

Kitty didn't hear what Steven said next, but he continued to return apples to his basket. Jackie, though, kicked them away from him. They shot far into the orchard, and Red whistled as one sailed past at least a dozen trees.

"Why'd she waste her talent on cheerleading?" Red said. "That girl should've tried out for the football team."

"As a placekicker?" Kitty winced and clutched her basket. She never got sports details right, but Red took another bite of his apple and gave her a thumbs-up.

Her grip on the basket loosened. No snide remark from him? She must have finally learned something about football. She stood up straighter and plucked an apple off the nearest tree branch. This day was turning out to be as good as she'd hoped.

* * *

One of Steven's apples flew by Red's ear. Red jerked his head to the side, and the apple landed by a family with young kids.

"Red," Kitty said behind him, but his attention remained on the family. The youngest kid, a toddler, picked up Steven's apple. She slobbered all over it before tossing it on the ground.

"Would you look at that." He propped his foot on a stump near his and Kitty's tree. "I bet you that germy, drool-covered grenade's gonna be used in the mill." He glanced at Kitty. "We're not buying any cider from this place. We'll make our own."

"With what, our washing machine, a couple of wood planks, and the Toyota?" Kitty yanked on his jacket. "Look at _this._ "

He removed his foot from the tree stump and followed her eyeline across the orchard. Steven had put Jackie over his shoulder and was carrying her—and their empty baskets—farther east.

Kitty set down her own basket and moved beside Red. "Those kids have broken up so many times," she said as her arm curled around his back, "I'm honestly not sure they're going to make it. But watching them today, I've realized you were right. We don't need those ups and downs. Steadiness means stability." She kissed his shoulder and gave his butt-cheek a small squeeze. "We've always had each other, and we'll always have each other."

"Damn right." He grasped her waist and turned her toward him. "We're winning, Kitty." He gave her a little shake, and the lightness in his chest materialized on his face as a grin. "We are winning!"

"Winning what?" she said.

Her confused stare sobered him up, but he didn't quit smiling. It would reveal too much. "Oh, you know … at life."

"Don't give me that. We've been together thirty years, plenty of time to learn when you're feeding me a line." She cocked her head to the side, and the cords in her neck strained. He'd known her long enough to realize he was in trouble. "Winning what?" she repeated, and his mind charged through every shabby response until it reached a decent one.

"Nothing," he said. "We just have the better relationship is all. Like you said, it's stable." His palms skimmed her sides. "No doubts between us. I trust you, and you trust me."

She slapped his chest. "Did you bring me here because of some competition you're having with Steven?"

"No. I brought you here because you're my wife."

"Stow it!" She slapped his chest again and threw him off balance. He stumbled over a fallen branch as she shouted at him. "You don't care about having a romantic day with 'your wife'. All you care about is winning a contest!" She grabbed an apple from her basket. "Well, Red Forman, you can go climb a tree!"

She hurled the apple at him. He dodged and laughed when the apple missed him. Two times today he'd almost been hit, but his reflexes were intact. The cardiac rehab she and his doctor insisted he do had more benefits than he'd thought.

He leaned against an apple tree, and its broad canopy shaded him from the sun as Kitty dashed off through the orchard. Too bad it couldn't do the same against her wrath. He'd lost this skirmish, but the day wasn't over. He still had time to regroup, to prove to her she was more important to him than pride or a '64 Pontiac Bonneville Convertible—although driving one of those babies, with his best girl at his side, would be a mighty fine way to spend his retirement.


	2. Meals and Deals

**Disclaimer:** _That '70s Show_ copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

CHAPTER TWO  
 **MEALS AND DEALS**

A plaster pig stood by the entrance of Orchard Hollow's restaurant, informing patrons to wait for the hostess to seat them. People in line took pictures beside it, and Kitty chided herself. She should've brought her camera and left Red at home. The pig was charming with its big smile and straw hat, but Jackie kept her distance from it. "Farmers and pigs are bad enough on their own," she said. "But farmer pigs?"

Kitty tutted. Jackie sure had a lot of phobias: eggs, worms, farmers, and now _farmer pigs._ Her parents' money had sheltered her from the real world, so much so that she must've developed an allergy to it.

"Steven's a lovely boy," Kitty said, "but with your taste, I'm surprised you feel comfortable dating him. He's more hippie than prince."

"Oh, that's changing," Jackie said. She was carrying a half-full basket of apples at her side, but Kitty had left her own in the orchard. "He shaved his beard off for me, cut his hair shorter, and his pork-chop sideburns are next. You just wait and see."

The people lined up in front of the pig moved a few steps forward, allowing Kitty and Jackie into the restaurant. It was housed in a converted barn. Strings of lights decorated the high ceiling and provided light, along with windows cut into the walls. Kitty would've been excited to eat here if she weren't so miserable. Red had tricked her into thinking this trip was about them, but it was about him and his ego.

Jackie grasped the apple basket with both hands. "Steven was all annoyed I made him check every apple for worms, but he looked so worried when you kidnapped me." She stood on her toes, as if trying to see over the person ahead of her. "When you're fighting with Mr. Forman, do you ever fake being hurt so he'll forget what he's angry about?" She sank back down onto her heels hard, jostling the apples in the basket. "Because I'm thinking of adding that to my arsenal."

"I didn't kidnap you," Kitty said. "I borrowed you—and no." Although pretending to be injured had gotten through to Red before, influencing him to stop his prank vendetta against Michael Kelso. Maybe she should fake being in a coma so he'd finally give her some real attention.

Another few steps forward brought her and Jackie to the hostess podium, which doubled as a cashier counter. The hostess welcomed them to the restaurant, explained how meals were self-serve buffet-style, and informed them they'd have to check Jackie's basket of apples.

"Don't worry," the hostess said when Jackie's mouth slackened. "We've got an apple closet, just like a coat check." She waved toward a tall shed built from wood. It stood several feet from the hostess podium and seemed more suitable for farm tools than apples. "We'll give you a number, and you can retrieve your basket at the end of your meal, okay?"

Jackie's jaw clenched, but she passed her basket to the hostess. "There better not be worms in there."

"No, ma'am." The hostess clipped a numbered clothes pin onto the basket's handle. She placed the basket in the shed and gave Jackie a matching clothes pin. "Just hand that back to me on your way out."

"Yeah..." Jackie said, "did you call me _ma'am_ a few seconds ago?"

The hostess smiled wide enough to crinkle her eyes. "Yes, ma'am! We strive to be polite in Orchard Hollow."

"That's being polite?" Jackie brandished her clothespin like a weapon, and Kitty snatched it from her. "What—?"

"Why don't you get a head start on the buffet?" Kitty said and turned to the hostess. "That's all right, isn't?"

The hostess maintained her smile, but her eyes no longer crinkled. "Y-yes. I'll ring you up."

"Listen you," Jackie said, pointing a finger at the hostess, "I am a _miss!_ A _miss!_ I—"

Kitty gave her a little shove toward the buffet.

"But, Mrs. Forman—"

"You may be a _miss,_ but I'm a nurse with full access to the hospital's drug dispensary. Don't make me sedate you."

"Fine! But I'm complaining to the manager of this restaurant."

Jackie left the hostess podium, muttering to herself, and Kitty paid for their meals. The hostess mouthed a silent, "Thank you," afterward, but no thanks were necessary. Kitty had simply done damage control for Red's mistake. He was the one who'd exposed this folksy, down-to-earth orchard to Jackie's snobbery and vanity.

At the buffet, all sorts of food was on offer—chicken pot pie, macaroni and cheese, barbecued pulled-pork—but Kitty chose fried chicken and mashed potatoes. It was a meal on Red's list of forbidden foods from the cardiologist, and she'd enjoy every bite. _"Feed a broken heart,"_ her grandmother used to say.

Picnic tables filled the restaurant wall-to-wall. People were meant to dine communally here, and usually she liked meeting new people. But several empty tables were available, and she directed Jackie to one.

"Calling me _ma'am,_ " Jackie said once they were seated. "Is the woman blind? I don't look like a _ma'am,_ and I never will."

Kitty patted the picnic table, loud enough to get Jackie's attention. "That's very nice, but I did not bring you here for you to rant. It is my turn to rant, and I am going to rant!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Forman. You're right." Jackie laid her hand on top of Kitty's, a gesture of sympathy Kitty sorely needed. This was the Jackie that she'd had hoped to talk to: a kind, caring young woman who just needed a little prompting. "It must've upset you so much," Jackie said, "hearing that lady call me _ma'am._ "

"For Pete's sake—" Kitty withdrew from her touch. "What I'm upset about is my husband's motives. The only reason he's paying attention to me is to compete with someone else." She cut into her fried chicken, slicing meat from bone. "He invited you and Steven here because of that, you know. To prove he's a better beau to me than Steven is to you."

"Beau?"

"Sweetheart."

"Yes?"

"No, _beau_ means _sweetheart._ Your significant other?" Kitty shut her eyes and chewed a forkful of chicken. Either Jackie was pretending to be dense, or she truly was a flake. "The point is that I need Red to change his behavior because of me, not because of his pride."

The silverware on the table rattled, and Jackie's voice rose in volume. "Oh! I can totally help you with that."

Kitty opened her eyes. "You can?"

"Yes! You've been married, like, fifty years, right?"

"Twenty-six, but go on."

"Mr. Forman takes for granted that you won't leave him," Jackie said "so he does whatever he wants. Yelling at him is the wrong approach." She jabbed her fork toward Kitty's chest, and Alfredo sauce flew off it. "You've got to turn down the emotional heat. Act aloof. He made you chase him at the car show? Make him chase you here."

Kitty wrapped her fingers around her glass of apple cider. The glass was cold, just like she had to be. Jackie's strategy wasn't unfamiliar to her. In fact, Kitty had used a version of it over two decades ago to get Red to commit. "Okay," she said. "I will."

"Good. And to thank me, you can drop a few hints to Mr. Master-of-Aloofness himself about proposing. He's not gonna find anyone better than me, so what's he waiting for?"

"Steven? I'd say he's waiting for you to graduate from high school and college."

"Please."

Kitty drank her cider and devoured her chicken leg. The restaurant's chef was almost as talented as she was. Her meal was easy to swallow, but her concern refused to stay down. "Jackie, you're a smart girl. Why do you act so gosh-darned dumb sometimes?"

Jackie's forehead wrinkled. "Excuse me?"

"Not knowing what _beau_ means. Expecting Steven, a nineteen-year-old boy, to propose."

"Eric proposed to Donna, and he was only seventeen!"

Laughter scraped Kitty's throat. "And you saw how that turned out. He left poor Donna at the altar!" She patted her heart. "Take it from me. If you want to be in my position thirty years from now, where—despite some hiccups—you have a good marriage, you'll follow your own advice. Once you've graduated from college—"

"But that'll be in five years!" Jackie breathed deeply and stabbed a few noodles with her fork. "No, Mrs. Forman, I need him to commit to me before I go to college."

"Well, does Steven understand what marriage means to you?"

"How am I supposed to—oh, shoot!"

Jackie ducked under the picnic table. Kitty looked behind herself and discovered the source of Jackie's fear: Red and Steven were at the hostess podium, giving in three baskets of apples.

Her hand shook, spilling a heap of mashed potatoes from her fork. Red being here didn't please her, but she spoke soothingly to Jackie below the table. "There's no need to hide, sweetie. Red knows better than to sit with me right now, which means Steven won't be sitting with us either."

"But Steven can't find out I'm talking to you about our relationship. I promised I'd drop the whole marriage thing until I..." She crept out from the table and sat on the bench again. "Until I graduate college. Damn."

"See? There's your commitment right there," Kitty said. "Steven's basically guaranteed he's going to be with you the next five years.."

"But—"

She put up a finger. " _After college,_ if he hasn't proposed to you within six months, then you'll have a case. But until then, be happy he calls you sweet names, gets you extra powdered sugar on your funnel cake, and so obviously adores you."

Jackie's cheeks flushed, and she glanced over Kitty's shoulder, probably to spy on Steven at the buffet tables. "He does adore me, doesn't he?"

"Nauseatingly so," Kitty said and was relieved to be telling the truth. She thought she'd have to lie after observing them in the orchard, but their squabble about apples was just that, a squabble. Their love would carry them through.

"And Mr. Forman adores you, too." Jackie laid her hand on Kitty's again, and this time Kitty didn't withdraw. "You just have to remind him what being without you feels like."

* * *

Red picked a table as far from Kitty's s possible. It meant sitting with a noisy family of five, but his new strategy—whatever it was going to be—wouldn't work unless Kitty didn't learn about it.

Steven chomped into his pulled-pork sandwich, but he hadn't earned his lunch. Red tossed a napkin at his face, and it bounced off Steven's sunglasses onto his plate. A pool of barbecue sauce soaked into it, rendering it useless. "Red, what the hell, man?"

"You ruined my damn day. That's _what the hell._ "

"How do you figure?" Steven laid his sandwich on the sauce-sopped napkin. "I'm not the one who dragged us to a barn to eat next to a bunch of hayseeds."

Red shifted his attention to the family at their table. The parents and kids wore overalls and straw hats, but farmers were an essential part of America's fabric. If this family wanted to dress like them, he had no problem with that.

"I dragged you here because your girlfriend kicked that apple at me." He stuck his knife into the center of his chicken pot pie, and the savory smell of onion, chicken, and peas threatened to quell his anger. "If she hadn't," he said, forcing his gaze to Steven, "Kitty and I would be kissing under an apple tree right now. Instead I'm in this restaurant. Talking to you."

"Still not gettin' how that ruined your day, unless the apple beaned you in the head." Steven ate another bite of sandwich. "You got brain damage?"

"Sometimes I wonder, considering you're still living in my house. A sane man would've kicked you out." Red snatched Hyde's napkin to use as his own and swallowed his first forkful of chicken pot pie. It tasted almost as good as Kitty's, but he'd rather have hers any day. "Look, the plan was for me to show Kitty she's my main priority, not cars or beer … or Eric."

Steven had barbecue sauce on his chin. He gestured for Red to give back his napkin, but Red crumpled it in his fist. Eric would've mouthed-off at the move, but Steven got off the bench and strode back to the buffet tables. He returned with a clean chin and pile of napkins, and he said, "So how'd you screw it up?"

"That's what I've been telling you: your apple-kicking girlfriend screwed it up! Her aim was off."

"You didn't want the possibility of interference, then you shouldn't have invited us. Jackie's a freakin' firecracker, man. Never know what's gonna set her off."

Red had a second forkful of chicken pot pie at his lips, but he returned it to the plate. Kitty could be a firecracker, too, but he'd lit her fuse one too many times.

"I was counting on you Jackie to get into some kind of fight," he said, and his neck flushed with heat. Admitting his true motives to the kids was dangerous. They seemed to enjoy blackmailing him. "If it wasn't her getting upset about dirt and bugs, it'd would've been you getting sick of apples. Then Kitty'd realize how lucky she is to be in a sturdy relationship without rickety highs and lows."

A grin slid across Steven's face. "You kidding me? You and Mrs. Forman have a crap-load of highs and lows. Right now is a low." He drank from his Coke and laughed. "Tryin' to compete with me and Jackie—that's like going up against a Penske Racing McLaren in a Kurtis Indy roadster."

Red's neck grew hotter. "I'm not competing with you. I'm just trying to show Kitty how much better I am to her than you are to your girlfriend."

Steven bit into his sandwich. If he had a comeback, he wasn't sharing it. But his temples twitched as he chewed, like he was grinding his teeth too hard. Maybe because the the family beside them had grown louder. The five farmers were complimenting the apple pie and debating the best apples for baking.

Red dug into his chicken pot pie. He had to eat it before it got cold. With his current luck, it would be his last warm meal for the next month.

"Listen," Steven said once they had the table to themselves, "you wanna look good in front of Mrs. Forman, I'll help ya."

"What's the catch?"

"You tell Jackie that Mrs. Forman didn't pressure you into getting hitched. Tell her how you proposed 'cause Mrs. Forman gave you the space to get there "

Red brushed crumbs off his mouth with his napkin. He still had half a pot pie left, but his stomach shuttered its doors. Had he really not told Steven what happened? Surely Kitty must have.

"Red, you're lookin' a little pale." Steven snapped his fingers in front of Red's face. "You okay, there?"

"Cut it out." Red shoved Steven's hand away. "Kitty, um..." He coughed and drank down his Schlitz to ease his throat. "When we first went steady, she caught me cheating on her. She quit talking to me, and I proposed to prove she was the only girl for me."

Steven tugged on his earlobe and looked back toward Kitty and Jackie's table. "Holy hell..."

"Yeah, it wasn't pretty. I spent two damn months groveling to get Kitty to talk to me again and give me another chance. She did, and six months later I proposed."

Red pushed his plate aside and clasped his hands together on top of the table. If Steven wanted to do business, they'd do business. "Here's what I'll offer you: some advice. You like it, you help me. You don't, then we'll both do extended stays in the dog house—only yours might be permanent."

Steven quirked up an eyebrow, like he was interested.

"It's only natural to have doubts about getting married," Red said. "You're a man. But Jackie's a woman, and she's gonna want someone to build a future with. For some reason, she's chosen that person to be you—" His breath stalled in his chest. Kitty and Jackie had left their table. They were retrieving a basket of apples from the apple closet. He had to make his move and make it soon. "But if you don't step up," he went on, "and tell her marriage is a foregone conclusion for you two, she'll leave you for someone who can give her that guarantee."

Steven's can of Coke tipped over with a hollow clunk. No liquid spilled out, but he must've been fiddling with the table cloth. It had ripples in it Red hadn't spotted before. "I'll help you out," Steven said, clasping his hands on the table like Red. "And we never had this conversation."

"What conversation?"

Steven nodded, and Red nodded at the same time. Their deal was sealed.


	3. Five Exits, No Escape

**Disclaimer:** _That '70s Show_ copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

 **Author's Note:** Big thanks to Coady!

CHAPTER THREE  
 **FIVE EXITS, NO ESCAPE**

Kitty's stomach lurched as Red walked toward her. She and Jackie were by the aptly named _Rabbiton,_ a fenced-in meadow where bunnies frolicked freely. But only a half-hour had passed since lunch. She'd hoped to have more time.

"Oh, he's found us. Better let me do all the talking," Jackie said and fluffed Kitty's hair. "You just stand beside me, looking pretty."

Kitty focused on the bunnies. They scampered in the brown grass without a care in the meadow. All they had to do was eat, make babies, and be adored by onlookers. That didn't sound like too bad of a life.

"Kitty," Red said, but her gaze stayed on the bunnies, "there's no competition, okay?"

"Oh, really?" Kitty gripped the meadow fence. "Is that why Steven's not with you? Because you got _rid_ of the competition by dumping him into the apple grinder?"

Jackie rubbed Kitty's arm roughly, as if to remind her to keep quiet. "Mrs. Forman means she needs proof. See, I like words, especially if they're accompanied by diamonds, but not all woman are me. So … where _is_ Steven?"

"The corn maze," Red said. "He suggested we do a group activity, and I said, 'Why the hell not?'" His hand grasped the fence inches from Kitty's. "How about looking at me? I sure do miss those blue eyes of yours."

"No," Jackie whispered by Kitty's ear.

"No!" Kitty marched past him, but she would've kissed him in any other circumstance. He never wanted to do fun group activities, but today was just a contest for him, and she wouldn't reward him for it.

* * *

Rick, the man in charge of the corn maze, whistled at the baskets Red passed to him. "Those are some fine-looking apples," Rick said and stored them in a shed by the maze entrance.

Kitty stood a few feet away, by Jackie and Steven. Red was being take-charge, a quality that she appreciated—except when he took too much charge. In this instance, though, it was charmingly aggravating. But she'd finally begun to take Jackie's advice. She said nothing and merely observed.

Rick gave Red the clothespin that would let them retrieve their apples, and from his overall pockets he produced four apples. "For your journey. You never know how long you're gonna be in there. Could be days."

"Days?" Jackie said. "I'm out." She stepped in the opposite direction of the maze, but Kitty grabbed Jackie's wrist. "Hey—"

"You're not going anywhere except into that corn, missy."

Kitty gently but firmly dragged Jackie to the maze. Nine-foot-high stalks of corn surrounded them. They composed the maze walls, and their hunter-green leaves paired well with the deep blue sky. They also served as a barrier from the wind.

"I can't do this without your help," Kitty said. "I have to avoid Red, and no one's better at monopolizing attention than you."

Jackie placed her hand over her heart. "Thank you, but you're not supposed to avoid Mr. Forman. You're supposed to act like he means nothing to you _in front of him._ Otherwise, how will he know what you're doing?"

Kitty fastened the top-most button of her coat. The October chill had soaked into her skin. Red was wonderful at warming her with his arms, but she crossed her own arms over her chest when he joined her in the maze.

"Kitty, you forgot this," Red said and held out an apple. "Don't want you starving in here."

Steven moved next to Jackie. "That was cool of him, so I stole the idea." He plucked an apple from his coat pocket. "Red's a thoughtful guy, you know?"

Jackie kept silent and dropped the apple into her own coat pocket.

Red shined Kitty's apple on his jacket. "Now, doesn't that look delicious? And it's all yours, Kitty."

"Why don't you hold onto it?" Kitty said.

"I can do that."

"Good, and I hope it's a good kisser because your lips aren't getting near mine any time soon."

"Kitty—"

Kitty strode forward, and her steps vibrated through her legs. The hard-packed dirt below her feet was perfect for a stomp-off. She turned a corner in the maze, but Jackie, Steven, and Red caught up with her.

"We should've reversed things," Red said by her shoulder. "Done this maze before lunch then gone apple picking. Checking in our baskets of apples is a pain in the ass, don'tcha think?"

"Can the small talk, Red. I'm not interested."

Red fell back, and Jackie replaced him at Kitty's side. "You're doing great," Jackie said. "He's starting to sweat."

A droplet of satisfaction shimmied down Kitty's spine, but she didn't smile.

A few minutes later, they reached a spiral within the maze. Five exits were cut into it, and each had a sign with a mystifying clue written on it.

"Great. Where do we go now?" Jackie said.

"I'm sure Red can figure it out," Steven said and patted Red hard on the back. "Can't ya, Red?"

Red stood up straight. "This is child's play." He approached the first sign and read it out loud, "'Not all apples are red. Not all ends are dead, but this one might be. Check it and see.'"

Kitty shoved her hands into her coat pockets. "Well, that's helpful."

"Did Michael write that thing?" Jackie said. "It sounds like him." She looped her arms around one of Steven's and drew herself close to him. "I bet we could figure it out. We're great at riddles. And games. And pretty much everything."

"Yup, but we should let Red take the lead on this one. He's got the navy-training."

"And my beautiful wife's got more brains than all of us put together." Red walked to Kitty and touched her arm. "You think we should give this path a chance, or do we move onto the next one?"

She stepped away from him. "First it's small talk. Now it's sweet-talking? Do whatever you want, Red. My opinion's worthless to you anyway."

"That's just bull! Kitty, your opinion is everything. We've got a Japanese-brand car because you picked it out. We've got two teenagers living in the house, one who should be at college, and the other who could be living with his biological father, but—"

"Hey! I got an idea," Steven said. "Instead of arguing, how's about reciting the poem you wrote her at lunch?"

Kitty inhaled sharply. If Red had written her a poem, then maybe he truly was sorry. Maybe his motive today wasn't only to outdo Steven. "Let's hear it," she said.

"Okay..." Red searched his jacket pockets and his jeans. "Damn. The napkin I wrote it on is gone. But it was a real nice poem, wasn't it, Steven?"

"Quit bein' shy," Steven said. "Nothing wrong with admitting you memorized it." He nuzzled Jackie's temple with his cheek. It was such a sweet gesture that nausea gurgled in Kitty's stomach. "Hell," he went on, "you said it out loud enough times I freakin' memorized it, too. I'll start you off." He cleared his throat. _"'The ocean is an open road to my heart. Every time I see you, I want to f—'"_

"Follow it!" Red said. He leaned his shoulder against one of the maze walls and pinched a corn leaf between his fingers. "You are my wife. I married you for life. Uh … for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health—"

"Those are wedding vows!" Kitty charged into the first path out of the spiral. If anyone was following her, she didn't know. "Wrote me a poem. I'll write him a poem, straight to the couch!" She turned corners and passed an alcove carved into the corn, but the maze soon became a blur of hunter green. "What happened to you, Red Forman? What happened to us?"

"I'll tell you what happened," Red said, jarring Kitty into silence. She'd arrived back at the spiral. "This one," he pointed at Jackie, "kicked an apple at us, and you got the wrong idea about today."

Kitty blinked, and her throat grew cold with the October air. "'We're winning, Kitty!' How else am I supposed to interpret that?"

"Exactly as you did, Mrs. Forman," Jackie said. "Stick with the plan. Don't give up now. You have him!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Red and Steven both said to her.

Jackie puffed out her cheeks. She looked to the left then the right and darted for the second exit cut into the spiral.

"Don't think so." Steven chased after her, leaving Kitty and Red in the company of other maze-goers.

"What plan?" Red said.

"You first—" Kitty sidestepped a young teenager who was sprinting toward the closest exit. His feet pounded into the dirt and dug up chunks of it. His carelessness made a mess of the ground, same as she and Red had of this trip. "Small talk, sweet talk, and Steven talking you up? You asked him to help you woo me."

"What if I did? You asked Jackie to help you tick me off."

"Not tick you off. Get your attention. Make you aware of how lucky you are I love you."

"I know how lucky I am." His face flushed, but the cold had to be responsible for the blood rising to his cheeks. "I thank God every damn day that you married me and stay married to me."

Her jaw clenched, and her mind replayed his glee at Steven and Jackie's fight, but its power was withering. "You do?"

He inched closer to her. "Look, I ask you to go to car shows because I want to share something I enjoy with you." He inched even closer, and his breath warmed her nose. "But you get bored, and that's my fault because—"

"You're a dumbass?" she said and grasped the lapel of his jacket with both hands. Her grip wasn't tight, and her voice wasn't harsh. "A well-intended dumbass but a dumbass all the same."

"Sometimes, yeah."

"Well, I am, too, because I keep expecting you to act differently at those stupid—I mean, so very interesting—car shows, but does it happen? No."

"That's what I've been trying to make up for," he said. "You were so upset about how lovey-dovey the kids acted in comparison to us, and I got to thinking how lovey-dovey we were not all that long ago."

Kitty's eyes stung, but she couldn't blame it on the cold. "It really wasn't that long ago. "

A gust of frigid air blasted through the maze. A few of the younger kids in the spiral shrieked. The teenagers laughed, and the adults herded their families to a different part of the maze, where the walls would shelter them from the wind.

Kitty tightened her grip on Red's jacket. Her teeth chattered, and when he slid his arms around her, she didn't reject him. "Red, I want us to be like we were, before your heart attack, before my menopause. I want us to go out for fancy dinners and to take impromptu trips on the weekends and to make love more than once a week." She laid her head on his chest. "I want us to be _us._ "

"I'm not disagreeing." He tucked her head beneath his chin. "So how's this for a start: I won't ask you to go to car shows anymore. That way, we'll both avoid being dumbasses. And for every one I go to, we'll do something special together the next weekend "

"Oh, Red..." She withdrew from his embrace just enough to kiss him. He truly was the thoughtful, caring man she'd fallen in love with. "The Vineyard hosts a ballroom dancing night the first Saturday of every month. November's not even a week away."

He knotted his hands at the small of her back, and his gaze locked onto her face. "Not a bad idea, but I already brought you apple-picking. I'd have to go to another car show before we go dancing."

She pulled free of him and searched his jacket pockets. "Where are those apples? I need them to bean you!"

"Kitty—Kitty, I'm joking. I'd love to go dancing with you next Saturday."

Her fingers closed around an apple in his left pocket. " _Love?_ You never use that word, unless you're talking about the Packers or hamburger-bacon sandwiches." She glanced at the people wandering the maze and whispered, "Are you on dope?"

"No! What's wrong with a man saying he'd love to do something with his wife?"

"Because you never do it!"

"Well, I'm doing it now!" He rubbed the top of her wrist, the one halfway in his jacket pocket, and she let go of the apple. "Kitty, I'd _love_ to hold your hand right now."

He turned his palm toward the sky, and she clasped it. He was a competitive man by nature, and though his intentions today hadn't been a hundred-percent pure, they ultimately stemmed from a desire to please her. But she couldn't let him relax quite yet. She laced her tone with suspicion and said, "Still strange, Red."

"I'd _love_ to kiss you right now. Does that sound strange?"

"No..." Her facade crumbled. "No, I'd love that, too."

They embraced again, and their lips met, burning off the cold. She savored the pressure of his hands on her back, the heat of his mouth. He was giving substance to his words. This moment wouldn't end in the maze. It would carry through to next week and beyond.

"Ew!" a familiar voice screamed. "Old people make-out!"

Kitty and Red parted. Jackie and Steven had returned to the spiral, and Red said, "Crap. What are you two doing here?"

"Path brought us," Steven said. "Exit number four's the way out."

Red turned toward Kitty. "Know what I'd love to do now? I'd love to get away from them so we can finish in private what we started."

"That's exactly what I had in mind." Kitty wove her fingers between his and tugged him to exit number one. "This path has a cozy little alcove with a stone bench."

"Hey, what about us?" Jackie shouted after them.

"Find your own bench!" Red shouted back, and Kitty laughed as they left the spiral.

* * *

Red let Steven take the wheel on the drive home.

The Toyota's radiator kept the car warm, but Kitty's kisses made Red sweat. They were necking in the back seat, and he hadn't felt this carefree—or young—in years.

"You know, that is really, really gross!" Jackie shouted over the car radio. It was tuned to WFPP and playing noisy, screamy music.

"Yeah," Steven said, matching the volume of Jackie's voice. "Hope we can gross out our own kids like that someday."

Red tried to block out their conversation and focus entirely on Kitty, but Jackie continued to yell. "Steven … you want to have kids with me?"

"Who else would I wanna have kids with? And with the way we kiss, they'll be traumatized for life."

"Oh, Puddin'!"

The car swerved, pitching Red sideways into the car door. Kitty flopped face-first onto the back seat, and Red shouted, "Eyes on the road, dumbass!"

Jackie had pounced on Steven, causing him to lose control of the wheel. But she was in her seat now, and Steven's hands were at ten and two.

"It's a good thing we lock the car doors," Kitty said.

Red scoffed. "It's a good thing those non-American-made locks work."

"Over three years now and counting."

She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he eased his arm around her back. They'd be all right, all four of them. Disagreements, misunderstandings, and fights didn't have to cripple a relationship. Any marriage worth a damn grew stronger because of them. That was Kitty's belief and his, too. Her faith in him, though, was a gift he'd taken for granted.

Never again. He'd never give her another reason to doubt his love for her. A reason to yell at him? Unavoidable. But his devotion to her wasn't just for show.

"You chose a good car, Kitty." .

She cupped his knee. "You don't actually think that … but I adore you, too."

He grinned into the kiss she gave him. They were already all right.


End file.
